


Seven Colors of Sin

by jinslefteyebrow



Category: BLACKPINK, Red Velvet - Fandom, bts, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: But it gets better I promise, F/F, F/M, M/M, cool ass philosophy stuff if you're into that!!, kinda dark at first, let me know how I can improve tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-08 19:25:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15936731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinslefteyebrow/pseuds/jinslefteyebrow
Summary: In which Itzel, an amateur writer, has to help seven incarnations of sin find love before the world, and everything she's ever known, skews out of balance for good.Jin, as the sin of wrath: wrath, the perfect formula for obliteration of anyone, and anythingJungkook, as the sin of envy: turning toad green with anger they say, the result of a bitter spirit and a weak heartTaehyung, as the sin of gluttony: the want to consume more than one needs, wanting more, more, and moreJimin, as the sin of lust: entailing all physical wants and needs, the desire for intimacy and a little bit moreMin Yoongi, as the sin of sloth: delving into nothingness, the bottomless black hole of no work, no playKim Namjoon, as the sin of pride: walking with your nose up in the air, a stubborn jaw and a dead-set mindHoesok, as the sin of greed: riches and more riches, the epitome of luxury and a more conventional form of want





	Seven Colors of Sin

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy and leave feedback!

She'd never been scared of death, not in the slightest. To Itzel, the whole idea seemed a little ludicrous. Like it was just... death. People spent years trying to avoid it, trying to delay it with various methods, artificial and natural alike. To her, having a fulfilling life was much more important than living a long one.

However, she found herself repeatedly questioning that theory, when she was forced to gape into the jaws of death itself. Death, who came in the form of a bony, screaming woman who couldn't have been more than 5 feet tall.

"You incompetent little bitch! You dare insult me like this? Who do you think you are?!" The seething lady stomped one high heeled foot, momentarily losing her balance. When Itzel attempted to steady her in a show of impulse, the lady yanked her arm back and poked one of her clawed fingers at her chest. "I swear, I will sue this company and milk it for all it's worth! How dare you put full fat cream in my coffee?!"

Before Itzel could utter another stream of ma'am we're so sorry please don't sue us, her manager stepped out, both hands on his hips. She had to remember how to breathe. He practically oozed charisma, his aura glowing a bright gold in Itzel's mind whenever she found herself daydreaming about him, which was more often than she'd like to admit. However, literally every one of her coworkers also had a crush on him. Rumour had it, that on Valentine's Day last year, he had received over 8 roses, dropped at his desk from various secret admirers. That would've been fine, except for the fact that there was only one other girl apart from Itzel working at the bustling café. She felt the corners of her mouth quirk up into a involuntary smile.

"Yah!" The customer snapped. Itzel flinched, promptly shaken out of her stupor. "Does this seem funny to you? Look at my body. Do you think I achieved this by drinking full fat lattes?!" She gestured to her prim waist, and Itzels eyes widened, thrown off guard.

"Ma'am, what seems to be the issue here?" Itzel felt a slight breeze, smelling of something sweet reach her nose, and barely turned around halfway before she realized it was her boss coming to save her ass. Her cheeks burned and she promptly lowered her gaze, embarrassed. She could hear her boss and the woman having a conversation, but the ever prominent buzzing in her ears made it impossible to make out what they were saying. Suddenly, she felt a steady grip on her forearm, and before she had time to even look, she was yanked behind him. Taking that as her cue to leave, Itzel slinked away to the back.

Thank god, she thought, her chest heaving as she rested on cool metal of the back door, feeling the sticky summer breeze wash over her. What had started out as a way for Itzel to make some extra cash to put towards her impending college tuition money, had quickly turned into a dreadful place to work. She had realized that she was quite careless when it came to details, and that fact was not helpful when dealing with drinks nor customer service. Truthfully, the only thing that got her through her day was the feeble hope of life in college. She gripped on to the possibility of living in a place without her parents there to breathe down her back, and envisioned herself completely transforming with the help of a few new friends and parties. She was sure that the challenging literature and philosophy courses that she took would help turn her into some wise, old soul that had a mysterious, sexy aura about her.

Unfortunately, in the present, she was no more than a spaced out, quite short eighteen year old girl. She exhaled one last time, cracking her back on the rail bars of the staircase, and went back in the store, pushing the door jammer back in with a quiet hiss.

Somehow, in a sort of impossible feat, she managed to creep out of the store unnoticed, neither her manager nor the yelling lady noticing her. In celebration, Itzel performed a small sort of victory dance, twisting her legs to and fro and minutely waving her hands. Thank god her shift was over. Even if she had to spend a few gruelling hours getting interrogated by her parents at home, it beat getting yelled at by angry customers for her shortcomings.

She felt the sky darkening, and the rumbling sound of storm clouds rolling to form a gentle canopy above her head. Thankfully, she was prepared, and she opened her umbrella with a satisfied smile playing across her lips. She took her time walking home, making sure to avoid puddles in her path, giggling at a fleeting sight of a black cat that darted across the street in one fluid move. Itzel felt something tickling the back of her neck, and on instinct, raised her hand to make sure there were no insects crawling against her nape. Before her fingertips touched her neck, however, she was yanked backwards, headfirst. Clawing at neck in desperation, breaths coming out shorter and shorter, she realized the presence of a plastic bag tightly wrapped around her head. The last thing she could hear was the pitter patter of the rain against the plastic before she lost all semblance of consciousness.


End file.
